Shades pulled, child ignored, I went through my options. I can't afford a maid and/or nanny to take care of the messy details. I can no longer get mood altering drugs without getting off my butt and going into the city. Or possibly my doctor. I don't plan on having anymore children, so I'll never achieve the point of critical mass when they can start taking care of each other. Or, for that matter, the point when I am so truly overwhelmed that personal fulfillment and divahood are distant memories. So just what can I do?
Then it hit me: it all comes back to state mind. I may want to produce something besides attitude, but a diva IS attitude. If I'm going to be scraping underwear, I can paint that thumbnail a gorgeous purple, add tiny rhinestones, and look at something pretty while I'm doing it. Taking to my bed is a wonderful idea and I should do it more often. In fact, I needn't get out of bed at all on weekends. With my notebooks, fountain pen, magazines, and the boys to bring snacks and brew tea, I'd be set. I'm also thinking flowing clothes might help. I can stalk around the house in harem pants and beautifully embroidered tunic tops, using elaborate hand gestures.
And if all that fails? Well, there's always gin.